Presto!
by WastedxOpportunity
Summary: CATSPOTO. Mr. Mistoffelees' latest magic trick goes horribly, terribly wrong and all the cats end up in the Phantom of the Opera. Enjoy.
1. Mr Misto's new trick

_Wheehee! My writer's block is dead._

_This first chapter isn't as funny as the rest, but hey, if I posted the ninth chapter now it wouldn't make any sense, so stick with me, okay?_

Obviously, I own neither CATS nor Phantom. Sigh.

* * *

"Hey, look, it's the flying Mistoffelees!"

"It's not funny, Tugger," Mr. Mistoffelees muttered with a sigh. "Why must Coricopat and Tantomile make everything so difficult?"

The Rum Tum Tugger gave a short laugh before stretching out in the sun. "It's only because you have no twin to perform it with,"

Mistoffelees gave one more unsuccessful attempt before joining his friend in the sun. If this little magic trick was anything like the others, he'd have it down in under a day. He absolutely had to have learned it by then, for Bustopher Jones would be visiting soon and the large cat required entertainment.

"Mistoffelees? …Mistoffelees! Mistoffelees!" Munkustrap's voice brought Mr. Mistoffelees from his troubled thoughts. The silver tabby smiled and sat down in front of him. "Tell me," he said, his tail flicking back and forth. "Have you mastered your latest trick yet, or is the kitten having a bit of trouble?

With an angry grunt that went "harumphumherumph", Mistoffelees turned away, closing his eyes. "Well then, magical Mr. Mistoffelees, why don't you show me all you can do, and I'll speak to Coricopat and Tantomile about the rest?"

Mumbling a very unhappy mumble, Mistoffelees raised himself to his adorable little paws and leapt into the air. A victorious smile crept across his face as his success became more and more obvious. He exploded into a shower of pretty little sparks, in all the prettiest colors. They—or, if you prefer, he—flew from corner to corner of the junkyard. Although successful, something went terribly, horribly, terribly, horribly, horribly terribly wrong.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but it's still pretty bad.

* * *

Erik paced the room—unhappily, as usual. His cape/cloak fluttered behind him, making all those snazzy swooshy sounds it makes for suspense. Erik hated the noise, so he cursed at his cape/cloak. His shoes made a bit of an unpleasant sound on the stone floor, going "clickclackclackclick", and he cursed at them too. A thorn on the rose he held pokedhia finger, and he nearly burst his lungs.

A rather low note—an F, to be specific—came from the organ in the corner, followed by a squeak of fear.

Erik turned just in time to see a black and white cat disappear behind one of the many doors.

* * *

_Spiffy, huh? Or not...Anyways, I'm going to be leaving out some of the minor Jellicles, like Alonzo, Cassandra, and Exotica, because their appearances don't tell much about them and they aren't mentioned in the poems OR the video, meaning that I don't know much about them and can't make them funny. Also, I stick with the idea that Deuteronomy only comes ONCE A YEAR--meaning that he's not in this, 'cause I can't write about him without making him sound like a lazy bum. It's post-CATS, meaning Grizabella isn't in it also, so I sincerely apologize, or at least say that I do._

_Longer chapters in the future, I promise!_


	2. Today, France, tomorrow, the world!

_I still don't own it, but I got The Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats at Barnes and Noble..._

_Special thank you to Masque for being my best--and only--reader!_

* * *

Meg Giry and Christine Daae stood on the edge of the stage, watching Carlotta destroy yet another song. A scream tore its way from Meg's throat. "It's—it's—" She squealed in delight. "It's so cute!"

Pouncival looked to Tumblebrutus in absolute fear, his eyes widening considerably. Tumblebrutus looked from his friend to the "squee"ing ballet rats and vanished behind a backdrop, Pouncival not far behind.

Macavity, who had been prowling the junkyard just moments ago and was now thoroughly confused, was not quite so lucky. Seeing as it was still the late 1800's, Christine and Meg knew nothing of the "Napoleon of Crime" and his many misdemeanors.

"Look at his beautiful red fur!" "Such shiny little eyes!" The two girls' excited cries completely drowned out Macavity's hisses of protest, and his little two-centimeter long claws did close to nothing against the hundred-layered skirts.

Meg turned to Christine, a maniacal grin on her thin, ugly face. "Something about this cat makes me want to take over France," Christine smiled.

"Yes, Meg—today, France, tomorrow, the world!"

Cackling insanely, the two supposed "ballerinas" and their new little friend started off to take over the world. Wouldn't you just love to go along, too?

* * *

"Wh…What…What are you doing?"

An insane laugh was the Rum Tum Tugger's only answer. Well, of course, the man before him couldn't really understand him, so I suppose it isn't much of an answer…

The Viscount de Chagny knelt before the Rum Tum Tugger, tying adorable little pink ribbons into the masculine cat's mane(A/N: I've no idea what to call it, so let's just stick with this). Forget poor Erik, poor Tugger! For once in his life, he was wishing for one of his many fan girls to show her face and save him.

"You're going to be the prettiest little kitten in the whole wide world,"

The fop's words put pure fear in Tugger's heart. All he could do to show it, of course, was widen his eyes a little more, because he couldn't talk in a way that the fop would understand.

What happened to "faithful and true to others who do what Jellicles can and Jellicles do"?

* * *

_Still short, I'm sorry...And I couldn't resist the "Today, France, tomorrow, the world" thing...I'm so sorry...Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me..._


	3. Theater cats' rage and SpaghettiOs

_I updated again, so you can stop bugging me, Queen Masque the First..._

_Just because I've seen it eight hundred times doesn't mean I own CATS, 'cause as far as I know, I don't. Obviously, I don't own le fantome, but I like to pretend I do; it makes me feel better about myself._

* * *

Coricopat, Tantomile, and Gus stood before monsieurs(**A/N**: _Ha, I'm French!_)Moncharmin and Richard, begging each of them, but not to be heard. 

"Those ugly little ballet rats need to be-"

"-synchronized, like this! They're all going-"

"-in different directions, and at-"

"-different times!" Coricopat and Tantomile argued, pacing back and forth unhappily.

"You call that acting? Ha! Why, today's kittens are better than that; at least they can jump through a hoop!" Gus, the famous theater cat, spoke slowly and shakily, which only fed his rage. In fact, it fed it Spaghetti-O's. You know, the kind that are little O's and have meatballs and sauce and come in the little can? Yeah. Theater cats' rages like those. Anyways, the three cats looked from each other to the bewildered managers.

"AND CARLOTTA CAN'T SING!" They all whined. Moncharmin turned to his friend, whispering in his ear.

"I'd rather pay 20,000 francs to a maniac than endure this,"

* * *

Jennyanydots knelt before a row of cockroaches, struggling to keep her anger under control. She'd managed to teach cats in cockroach costumes to tap dance, right? This couldn't be much more difficult… 

Of course, she was terribly, horribly, terribly, horribly, horribly terribly wrong in assuming this, but hey, she's a cat. These cockroaches did not know the difference between left and right, they had more feet than they knew what to do with, she had to sit in some smelly little passageway, and the cockroaches kept trying to eat her. Yes, they did try to eat her. (**A/N**: _they were some of thosefreakswho wondered if cats tasted more like chicken, valley girls/fried rice,or Spaghetti-O's_) After swimming in that lake filled with Everlasting Cat-knows-what, they'd become radioactive. Mutant cockroaches, although, well, mutant, still get hungry.

Forget poor Tugger, poor Jennyanydots!

* * *

"No, no, it's 'do you like your morning tea weak or strong?'" 

"But I'm never away all night with anyone, and I'm not making them tea, no matter what some funny lookin' little kitty tells me to do," The carriage driver mumbled, confused. He was, of course, incredibly drunk, and for that reason could understand the orange tabby that paced before him.

"Oh my sweet Everlasting—fine. Nevermind, dear fellow." Skimbleshanks paused, sighing in frustration. "Have you got each passenger's name written up on their door?"

"Well, I've only got orangetyfive doors, and they don't say anything on 'em, unless you count the graffiti,"

"Is there any sort of light? Can you make it dark or bright?" Skimbleshanks asked, growing irritated.

"I guess if you opened the door, it'd be brighter, but then you'd go flying out and land on your fat little kitty head." The driver began to laugh uncontrollably, his fat face contorting into an ugly smile.

"I'd land on my feet, thank you. Have you got a cat aboard?"

"You could paint ears on my snazzy ponies if you like," The driver offered, laughing harder. With an irritated flick of his tail, Skimbleshanks left the drunken man to his jokes; they were certainly more than enough company for him.

* * *

_Yay! Five cats in a single chapter!_

_Don't worry, I won't be skipping around from cat to cat the entire time. I'm bringing them all together, but how...Well, that's a suprise._

_Have you figured out yet why Spaghetti-O's come in the little cans? 'Cause I'm still confused about that._


	4. Tuggy's new look and Jemima eyes

Sorry, Masque, haven't updated in a while...Kind of got distracted...But I finally did, so don't yell at me.

* * *

Munkustrap walked through the halls in silence. He hadn't found any of the other Jellicles, which was both good and bad. Tumblebrutus, Pouncival, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie couldn't bother him if they were nowhere to be found…

A strangled sob choked its way out of the shadows. Munkustrap turned the corner to find the Rum Tum Tugger, his mane perfectly curled into golden-brown ringlets, each one tied with a large pink ribbon.

Munkustrap was—literally—rolling on the floor and laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. Tugger's studded belt had been replaced with a frilly little skirt, his spiked collar's place filled with a pearl necklace. Pounds of make-up coated his face.

"Go away…or…the Fop will come for you too…" The Rum Tum Tugger's mumbled words had hardly been spoken before he lost consciousness, the fumes and feminism of everything contaminating every breath. Forget poor Jennyanydots, poor Tugger!

* * *

"Something's wrong with that cat," Little Jammes whispered to a fellow ballet rat.

Victoria pranced around the stage, out-dancing everyone in sight. Two—or, wait, now three—ballerinas had already dropped dead after realizing that a mere kitten possessed more ability than they did.

Etcetera and Electra scurried across the stage. Victoria turned to them happily as a fourth dancer died and another ran away sobbing. The two kittens were squealing in delight as they pulled Victoria away.

"Victoria, Victoria! Munkustrap says he's found Tuggy!"

* * *

Bombalurina stared in disgust at the woman before her. Madame Giry knelt in front of her, wearing—as usual—her old, ragged taffeta dress, stretching out a thin, grimy hand toward the cat. Bombalurina turned to Demeter, her red fur bristling.

"Has this woman no sense of fashion? I'd rather be with Macavity and his uncombed whiskers, sunken eyes and furrowed brow!"

The two cats started down the hall immediately, leaving a confused Madame Giry behind.

Meg, being as moronic as all little girls are, had strayed from Christine's side. She had not, however, lost her desire to conquer all of France and the surrounding areas.

Much to her dismay, Jemima had stumbled upon the young Meg Giry. Now, Meg, being as egotistical as all little girls are, thought she was the most adorable person in the entire opera house (when we all know it's Erik). Upon seeing Jemima and realizing that she was no longer the cutest creature ever, she became angry. Very angry; so unbelievably angry that she was really, really mad.

"Rawr!" Meg roared, glaring at the kitten. "I can't take over the world if I'm not the cutest person in it!"

"Mew?" Jemima mewed, looking up at Meg with those big old Jemima eyes of hers.

Meg Giry dropped dead.

* * *

Five cats...In one chapter...Spiffy, huh? 


	5. Pearls, a new victim, and a siren

_I'm revealing in this chapter how I'm bringing all the cats together...It may sound like a bit much for one chapter, but I don't really care right now..._

_I still don't own CATS or POTO, but I _do_ have a toaster._

* * *

Cursing again, Erik followed the little black blur down the hall. The noise of the cat's paw on the organ had startled him considerably, and he'd cut himself—again—on the thorns of the rose. So, of course, he wasn't pleased in the least by the noise of his blood dripping to the floor, and a new string of unhappy words flew from his lips.

Mr. Mistoffelees scurried down the hall in his adorable little way, sliding through a small door. Erik followed, shutting the door behind him with an irritating click.

The two found themselves in the torture chamber, and Erik had left the light on.

Forget poor Tugger, poor—oh, who really cares any more?

* * *

Moncharmin ran to his co-worker, who was currently sighing unhappily and resting his rather larger and not-exactly-proportional head in his hands. 

"The opera ghost has been surpassed," He said, sinking into a chair. "Someone has stolen my Woolworth—or, um, I mean, uh, Meg's—pearl necklace!"

"You do know that little Meg Giry was found dead in the hallway this morning, correct?"

"Yes..Well…Er…They went missing…last night?" Moncharmin offered, sighing angrily upon Monsieur (heh, French again) Richard's glare.

"Oh, fine, they were mine…But…I was going to give them to you—Er, um, just kidding! Christine?"

* * *

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer cackled in their odd little kitty way, running down the hall in search of a new "victim". Well, everything they selected as prey was, of course, an inanimate object, but I couldn't care less, so I'm calling them victims. 

They were still laughing and running when their new victim came into sight, and their tiny little jaws dropped a centimeter or two.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer—or, if you prefer, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie—gazed in awe at the giant chandelier before them.

Now, Munkustrap had a fantastic adventure, thanks to Tugger's new hairstyle. He laughed so hard he rolled down the hall, broke open the door to Christine's dressing room, shattered the mirror, rolled down multiple flights of stairs, flopped into Erik's boat, and stopped laughing. Of course, the latter action required lots of gasping, and he inhaled the handles of both oars. They did, however, get stuck in his little kitty throat, so as he choked and flopped some more, the oars turned in circles. When he finally got fed up with the whole idea and just pulled them out, Munkustrap found himself on Erik's doorstep. He'd worked up quite an appetite, so he walked right on in through the old kitty door that had once been used by the famous Ayesha.

He found an old door that had light streaming from behind it.

"So the light does stay on when you close the door," Munkustrap said with a smile, joining Mistoffelees and Erik and politely closing the door behind him.

* * *

Etcetera, Electra and Victoria wandered through the halls in search of their beloved Tuggy, arguing endlessly over who was the Rum Tum Tugger's favorite. 

They just happened to be wandering exactly five stories below ground level, beside the lake that Munkustrap had recently crossed. A demented shriek came from across the lake, wailing about too many cats. The three kittens leapt into the air in surprise, landing with a loud splash in the lake.

Erik's own personal siren dragged them through the water, in the direction of Erik's house—or, more specifically, the torture chamber.

* * *

_Like it? Hate it? Want to kill me in my sleep?_

_Yes, I know Erik was pretending to be a siren in his own little dress-up game, but it was easier just to do this, so there._


	6. Inside the torture chamber

_Aha! The long-awaited chapterhas finally arrived. I'm sorry it took so long...But now, like those cheesy TV shows..._

_THIS WEEK'S EPISODE INCLUDES: Bustopher Jones arrives, the Rumpus Cat encounters a new foe, Pouncival pounces, Tumblebrutus tumbles, and, for the first time in history, you get to see what's going on INSIDE the torture chamber!_

_I still don't own it, and my toaster broke._

* * *

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus pounced and tumbled in the third cellar of the opera house, hardly obeying the Rumpus Cat's orders to find Munkustrap. Pouncival pounced upon a rat, Tumblebrutus tumbled around in pursuit of another, and two of the numerous rats ran away in fear. In fact, there were a lot of rats. There were grey rats and white rats and black rats and a few mixes of the three as well. It was like a chocolate factory of rats, and there was no Willy Wonka in control. (A/N: Couldn't resist. Again.)

Tumblebrutus tumbled backwards against the wall, knocking open one of Erik's secret doors. He continued to tumble, leaving Pouncival alone with more rats than he could eat.

* * *

The Rumpus Cat, who had given up on Pouncival and Tumblebrutus—with good reason, of course—stood in the fourth cellar, his flame-red eyes searching the darkness. Pacing back and fourth, he heaved an unhappy sigh. 

A maniacal chuckle chuckled in his ear, extra-scary-ish, and it went kind of like "Hahahahahahahagrapeha!" Monsieur Rumpus Cat (A/N: Whee! Frenchiness!) wheeled around, masking his fear, to see a tall creature with its form hidden beneath a long coat and small felt hat. As all cats do when they stumble upon a coat of some sort, he stepped forward and began to shed his "wretched" fur all over it (A/N: Sorry, Masque…) and sharpen his claws on the sleeve. With a strangled cry of disgust, the creature stepped back, the coat falling to the ground and the hat revealing the creature's face.

A sinister smile crept across the Rumpus Cat's face. For, standing in front of him, a Peke was—of course—huffery-snufferying.

The great Rumpus Cat looked up at the snarling dog, and, with his smile widening further, tried his old look-to-the-sky-and-give-a-great-leap routine. One problem, however; this dog was living in the late 1800's, so it was not quite aware of the happenings of the next century and, therefore, did not perform the scatter-like-sheep trick. Instead, it just snarled some more and huffery-snufferied. This Peke had been half-eaten by radioactive cockroaches, but due to the radioactivity, it became a mutant dog and its missing half was regenerated. As spiffy as all of this is, it provided a bit of a disadvantage for the Rumpus Cat.

No wonder Nadir said the creature was far worse than anything else in the cellars of the opera house…

* * *

Bustopher Jones leaned back against the stone wall happily, his white spats shining in the candlelight. The few remains of what had been Erik's refrigerator—his REAL refrigerator—were scattered across his sizeable stomach and the floor surrounding him. Sure, the food was a bit stale, but it was better than the mangy rats in the third cellar. Seeing as all of the food in the refrigerator was, indeed, cold (even though Erik hadn't paid his electric bills in years), Bustopher dragged himself to the only warm "food" in the house that might taste good: the light bulb hanging above the torture chamber. 

Although he had a bit of an unpleasant taste in his mouth and he scuffed his spats in his frenzied rush to the sink (where else would Erik wash his vegetables?), there was a thankful response from inside the torture chamber…Mostly, anyways. The only problem, however, seeing as Erik is NOT A VAMPIRE, he was terrified of the dark, and screeched so loud he broke every mirror.

Yes, the "Music of the Night" was a lie.

* * *

Mistoffelees looked to Munkustrap, who was currently shaking his head in a useless effort to return hearing to his ears. Electra, Etcetera, and Victoria had recently woken up and were chattering endlessly about their beloved Tugger. Erik was running in circles, his hands clamped tightly over his eyes. He nearly tripped over Tumblebrutus and screeched again in undeniable fear, running faster and faster until he hit one of the broken mirrors and fell to the floor. 

When Erik opened his eyes, Mistoffelees had climbed onto his chest and was staring down at him with his big, shiny, sparkly, beautiful, spiffy, adorable green eyes. He shrieked again, pushing the poor little tuxedo cat off and backing up against the wall. Etcetera bounced over happily, burying her face in his cape/cloak. He shrieked AGAIN, pulling away. Mistoffelees, who was currently fighting a terrible headache and had grown irritated with Erik's shrieking, performed one of the simplest magic tricks known to cats.

A squeal of glee came from Erik's throat as he clapped his hands happily. Light came from directly overhead, meaning he had no more reason to scream. Mistoffelees smirked happily, thankful for his success.

It was then, of course, when Erik realized that the magical cat had set his hair on fire.

* * *

_I couldn't resist with the vampire thing. I'm rather proud of this chapter, meaning that, of course, everyone will hate it._


	7. Yum, Nazi Chocolate

_My computer finally let me upload this, yay. There's some RENT reference in this one, and there's A Chorus Line and Evita in the next chapter, or maybe it's the one after that. I dunno._

Still don't own it.

* * *

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer scurried down the hall, their little kitty paws moving as fast as they could go, their little kitty jaws open in a happy little cackle. One of the two managers chased after them, screeching insults. The other had vanished among the flames that had enveloped the theater as the chandelier fell.

The pair slid to a halt as Macavity leapt into their path, Christine at his side. Demeter, who had recently arrived with Bombalurina, squealed the evil cat's name. Moncharmin tripped over Mungojerrie and started sobbing, and Christine decided to imitate herself during The Music of the Night, and stood staring dumbly at Moncharmin's shiny, bald head.

"KITTEH!" She screamed, lifting Demeter into her arms. You might have noticed at some point in time that Christine is, indeed, female, and therefore she can understand cats, as well as many other things. Macavity still had control of her foolish mind, so she was "Moohaha"ing and grunting and stuff like that. Now, of course, no one tried to stop Macavity or Christine, as no one had the faintest idea as to what was going on, and Macavity had never decided what he would do should he ever catch Demeter. He ought to write a book about that…Call it: "I Didn't Know What I'd Do If I Ever Caught Demeter So When I Actually Did Catch Her With The Help Of A Moron Whose Mind I Took Control Of I Was An Idiot And Went Off To Write A Book With A Title Longer Than The Book Itself Including The Copyright Page By Macavity". He'd make millions.

So, as the auditorium of the opera house burned to a toasty crisp, with bacon and eggs and a large stack of pancakes, Christine sat down and stroked Demeter, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer crept away silently, Bombalurina became thoroughly confused, Macavity wandered off to write a book, and Moncharmin, irritated up to here, rolled his eyes and leapt into the flames.

* * *

Raoul noticed the flames in the auditorium. He was sitting in Christine's dressing room, which was directly above it, and the floor started to get so hot his sparkly pink toenail polish started to melt. So he decided to save everyone! He ripped off his/Christine's dress, realized he had no Superman costume underneath, put it back on, and wrote "SUPER RAOULETTE" on the front in red lipstick so he could pretend to be female. Hurriedly, he grabbed a pair of pantyhose and sprinted to the location of his secret water supply.

Standing by the lake, he repeatedly attempted to fill the pantyhose with water. Then he realized the pantyhose did NOT work like a regular hose, ran to the convenience store in the fourth cellar, bought a fire hose, and threw it into the lake. It sank really, really fast. It took his/her slow-witted mind a moment or two to realize that only one end goes in the lake, so he ran back to the fourth cellar and bought another one. He threw one end into the lake and, holding the other end, started for the auditorium.

* * *

"It's a bird wearing a skirt!" Demeter cried.

"It's a big pink marshmallow!" Bombalurina argued.

"No, it's a flying slug!" A passing ballet rat squealed.

"I like slugs. I will name him Andrew Lloyd Webber because he looks like a bowl of Jell-O." Christine mumbled.

"No! Name him Gaston, you idiot!" Wailed Demeter.

"Name him Tim Martin Gleason!" Bombalurina offered quietly.

"Name him Macavity, after the best writer who ever lived!" Macavity called from the next room.

"You're supposed to say 'No! It's SUPER RAOULETTE!'"

"Ooooh! Ooooooh! Me! Me! Meeeeeee!" Christine begged, waving an arm in the air.

"What?" Super Raoulette asked, confused. He had hooked the hose to the little shiny hook that the chandelier used to hang on and was swinging back and forth.

"I wanna play Russian Roulette!" Christine cried, bouncing around, giving Demeter, who sat in her lap, a bit of a ride.

"But you're Swedish," Demeter reminded her.

"Christine's a Nazi?" Bombalurina asked.

"No, she's from Sweden."

"So she's a Nazi and she makes good chocolate?"

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT RUSSIAN ROULETTE IS!" Super Raoulette screamed, interrupting Bombalurina and Demeter.

"Is it a game?" Christine asked, lifting Demeter out of her lap."

"No, it's him!" Demeter was pointing up at Super Raoulette, who was still swinging back and forth.

"Her." Super Raoulette corrected politely.

"No, you." Demeter argued.

"I thought he was Tarzan," Bombalurina was confused again.

"NO! I'M SUPER RAOULETTE!"

"Can I play?" Christine was slowly edging away from the doorway to the auditorium, which was running out of things to burn.

"Why don't you sound Russian?"

"Because I'm NOT RUSSIAN!"

"Are you Polish?"

Raoulette had become annoyed very very very quickly, and turned his spiffy fire hose on full-blast. After he/she had completely put out the fire, Raoulette turned her hose on Christine, Demeter and Bombalurina.

"Today 4 me," he said with a smile.

* * *

_No, I don't have anything against the Swedish, Polish, Russian or cross-dressers._


	8. Goldfish can do cannonballs any time

Yay! I got this one up fairly quick.

Okay, Fritz, just a warning: there's a little inside joke between Masque and I tucked in here somewhere, and it will probably scare you. As long as you don't have any carrots in your house, however, you'll be fine.

Once again, a really, really random chapter, written with characters I don't own.

* * *

So, this one time, I caught Demeter, but I didn't know what to do, so I wrote this.

THE END.

Macavity looked over his writing, sighed, and tapped his paw unhappily. He clutched the pencil in his paws, deciding his story needed…something else. He crossed out "THE END." and wrote:

Pretty spiffy, huh?

He wrote "THE END." again below it and slid the paper into an envelope addressed to Author House publishing.

* * *

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer walked slowly across the emptied lake, eating their fill of all the water-dwelling creatures that Raoul had—technically—murdered. Hundreds of sirens flopped around, burying their faces in the few remaining puddles. Then Mungojerrie or Rumpleteazer would walk up and begin to devour them like carrots eating the color Purple's pet armadillo. 

"OOOOOH! Look over there! Look over there!" Rumpleteazer cried, wiping a bit of siren-flesh off her chin. She was pointing at a door fit into the bank of the lake. Written in shiny red water-proof paint, it said: "Employees only".

"Well, I guess all the employees are dead now, so how 'bout we go see if they had anything nice?"

Chuckling happily, the pair wandered into the torture chamber.

* * *

"He does this too much," Munkustrap mumbled. Erik stood in the center of the torture chamber, one hand over his bare face, screaming curses into the darkness. He had managed to extinguish the fire before it did very much damage to his lovely, beautiful hair. But now, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had stolen his mask, and he wasn't entirely happy about that. 

"Ooooh, I'm the Phantom of the Opera! I'm—" Rumpleteazer paused for dramatic effect, her eyes darting back and forth beneath the mask. "—COPYRIGHTED!"

Etcetera shrieked, diving behind Mungojerrie, who looked a bit frightened himself. Victoria looked ready to faint, and Electra squealed unhappily.

"'Teazer! That's not funny!" She cried. "Anyways, 'Stoff over there would make a better Phanty. He looks like he's wearing a suit."

"Don't call me 'Stoff!" Mistoffelees wailed. As Electra and Rumpleteazer slowly edged toward him with Erik's mask, he started sobbing pitifully, searching hopelessly for a way out.

* * *

Demeter and Bombalurina gasped for air, flopping around like little fuzzy fishies. Christine was swimming in circles happily, exclaiming repeatedly that she was a goldfish. 

Super Raoulette had blocked off the auditorium and filled it halfway with water. He would have filled it further, but the hose that he had thrown in the lake had clogged the other hose, and Raoulette grew so frustrated her make up started to run. He had run away sobbing, leaving the three in their fish bowl.

Christine climbed up the hose that was still hanging from the ceiling. She leaped off, screaming: "Cannonball!"

"Stop doing that!" Bombalurina cried as she was completely drenched. Demeter was now scratching at the hinges of the door, hoping to break it open. She scratched harder, her eyes watering in irritation.

"But I'm a goldfish!" Christine argued unhappily. "Goldfish can do cannonballs anytime they want."

"Cats eat goldfish, you know…" Demeter called over her shoulder.

"I mean, uh, I'm a…" Christine held the end of the fire hose up to her face. "Elephant?"

* * *

The Evita and A Chorus Line reference isn't until the next chapter, okay?

Misto would make such an adorable Phanty, wouldn't he?


	9. Presto, again

_This is the longest chapter yet! Yay!_

_...So please forgive me for the slow update._

_Not only does this one have Evita and A Chorus Line, I also managed to use Avenue Q...Twice! Yay!_

_Oh, yes, and I went back to an old joke, since I'm using the minor characters now. Plato's foot adoration. Sorry._

_I still don't own it, but I like root beer._

* * *

"He's…so…CUTE!" Electra squealed. Mistoffelees sat in front of her, dwarfed in Erik's cape, his adorable little face hidden behind the mask. Erik sat sobbing in the corner with his hands over his face.

"But I don't WANNA BE CUTE!" Misto sobbed. "I wanna be a magician!"

"And I want to be a dentist. Come on, you look like a little furry Phanty!" Argued Victoria, her little paws on her little hips, or as close as is possible for a cat.

"My ears aren't like that!" Erik whimpered. "And I don't have a tail. Or, for that matter, want one."

"But tails are so cool!" Munkustrap sighed, flicking his tail back and forth. "How could you not want one?"

Suddenly, a grating, scratching, scraping, perhaps even _numerous_ sound came towards them, like thousands of nails on a chalkboard. Erik cried out in fear and shrank back against the wall. Munkustrap looked to Mistoffelees, both of them raising their paws to their ears and twitching involuntarily. Nearly instantly, all noise stopped, and silence overwhelmed the torture chamber.

Several voices—mostly high-pitched—burst into song.

"God I hope I get it! I hope I get it! How many people does he need?"

"How many boys?"

"How many girls?"

"How many people does he need?"

A red, floating ball of flame came into view as a single voice began to sing.

"I really need this job, please God I need this job! I really need this job!"

Erik stood up angrily, his skeletal hands on his hips. "Hey, rat-catcher, I thought you and your rats moved to the fourth cellar?"

"Yeah, we did," The flaming head spoke, his voice a rough baritone. "But it's become so crowded by now…My rats can't breathe. We heard you guys were putting on a production of A Chorus Line, and we were just starting up to the auditorium to audition."

"Actually, I think they're doing Evita…" Erik said.

"Oh, okay, thanks." The rat-catcher mumbled, and his head bobbed up and down as if he were shrugging. "We can do that too."

"Don't cry for me Argentina!" The rats sang passionately as the horrible scratching noise began again.

"Wait wait wait," Mungojerrie cried. "Your rats look mighty tasty."

"Um…Don't move! Don't move!...Whatever you do, don't come after me!...I am the rat-catcher!...Let me pass, with my rats!..."

"But we want to eat them!" Rumpleteazer wailed as Mungojerrie shushed her.

"What do you have against my rats?"

"Everyone's a little bit racist," Mistoffelees began to sing to himself quietly in the corner. Rumpleteazer was scurrying around, and some of the rats were screaming, but not for long.

"I got some, guys!" She screamed. She held some dead rats up by their tails. A _lot_ of dead rats. All the living rats screamed, and were hurriedly rushed out by the rat-catcher, who was cursing Erik and mumbling about hospitality.

* * *

Coricopat and Tantomile—in unison, of course—walked into the torture chamber and slammed the door shut.

"Okay, Misto," The pair said threateningly. "You were supposed to make a little rainbow thing around your feet. You say Presto, and we're all in some weird place with masked freaks, guys in dresses and suicidal managers. Fix it."

"And quickly," Munkustrap added as he chomped noisily on a dead rat. Mistoffelees fumbled with the tie on the cape/cloak—paws aren't very useful in untying things—as he flicked the mask off his face with his tail.

"I can't send everybody back unless they're all in here,"

Coricopat and Tantomile twirled their tails and threw their paws in the air, producing a microphone. Mistoffelees reached for it, speaking clearly as his little kitty voice filled the opera house.

"Everyone into the torture chamber in the fifth cellar, please,"

* * *

"Is everybody here?" Munkustrap called. The torture chamber had filled to the brim, quite literally. Pouncival was climbing around on the ceiling, searching for "the spring" that had driven the Persian mad.

"I think so," Mistoffelees mumbled. "Either way, I'm not waiting."

Silence filled the torture chamber.

_"Presto!"_

* * *

"Oh my dear lord," The black cat flicked his tail, and, upon realizing he did so, instantly stopped. "This isn't fair." He paused, swallowed his tears, and calmly said, "Misto, when I find you, I am going to wring your neck like a scrawny little gerbil's, stomp on you repetitively, cut off your tail and Punjab you with it, sing something from Avenue Q, eat a pancake—only one!—and then do it all over again."

"You…have the sexiest…paws…ever." Plato drooled, staring at Erik's feet—or, actually, paws.

"Get away from me, you moron!" Erik screamed, trying to strangle the cat but, instead, leaving a large claw mark across his face. The younger cat scampered away, screaming.

* * *

"So where did you go?" Cassandra asked Mistoffelees, stretching her legs.

"France," He mumbled. He does that a lot. Talking isn't one of his favorite things to do.

"The junkyard down the street?"

"No, uh—" Misto paused, looking at the thoroughly confused cat in front of him. "Yes. Yes, the junkyard down the street."

* * *

_Didja think it was gonna end there? Huh?_

See, Masque, it's a shiny twist.


	10. M le Fantome's old tricks

My Easter/Passover/Whatever you want it to be present to all of you. This is short, because I left my Math notebook at school, and it has some of Presto in it, including Raoul's transformation. But I've got Little Jammes and the Persian for you.

I pretended like I knew French in here. If I confused you, there's a translation thingy at the bottom. This chapter is very, very random.

* * *

"Whoa. Where in the world did you come from? I've never seen you before."

"I am the greatest dancer ever. I swear on _your_ life, mademoiselle."

"Truly? Show me."

"Very well."

Silence. The soft pitter-patter of tiny feet. A very, very loud thud. _Whump!_

"Why, you dance like a calf in a field!"

"My feet…aren't quite normal…Please, believe me!"

Little Cecile Jammes, a tiny tortoiseshell, tremblingly, triggered a terrifyingly tumultuous tear-fall. (**A/N**: Say that ten times in five seconds, and I'll let youborrow Misto and Erik for a bit, okay? They've been getting on my nerves. Erikdoesn't like _Fish_! He says Carl couldn't have invented the toaster if he lives underwater...Pooh.)Victoria wandered away, her tail held snobbishly in the air.

* * *

The Persian, a big fluffy Persian with evil jade eyes, wandered the junkyard unhappily, with Darius, a meek little tabby, at his side.

He knew he was a cat.

He was pretending he knew why he was a cat.

He was, for the latter reason, taunting Darius in a sing-song voice.

"I know something you don't know! I know something you don't know!"

"Will you just shut up already?"

"I know something you d—"

"Will you tell me then?" Darius already knew what it was; he just wanted the cat in front of him to shut up already, as was previously stated. Also, when the Persian gets excited, he sheds lots of fur—which he had no shortage of—all of which was blowing into Darius' face.

"Will you keep it a secret?"

"Cross my heart and hope for pie."

"Apple?"

"Cherry."

"With whipped cream?"

"Extra fluffy."

"Okay." The Persian paused, glancing back and forth mysteriously before continuing in a stealthy whisper. "_Erik_'s up to his old tricks again."

"Really?"

"Yes," He allowed his voice to fill the junkyard. "Erik's up to his old tricks again! Like in the rosy hours of Mazenderan!" He lowered his voice again. "Darius! Sssssh!"

"Le gasp! M. le Fantôme est jusqu'à ses vieux tours?"

"Oui, oui."

"Le Chat Eternel charmant!"

"You're not a cat. Stop talking like one."

"Oui je suis!"

"Oh _well_. I don't care. You're not French, either."

"Mais je peux faire semblant d'être, M. Effrayant-Chat!"

"Once again, I don't care."

"Pouvoir vous brûle dans les fosses les plus profondes d'enfer!"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"That was a funny sneeze."

"You sneeze funni_er_."

"Nuh-UH!"

"YUH-HUH!"

"Nu—AFLAFLA!" The Persian sneezed. His fur flew everywhere.

"Ew."

* * *

For those of you who are multi-lingually challenged, I have prepared a small translation doohickey. Yay. These are in the order of appearance.

1. Mr. the Phantom is up to his old tricks again?

2. Lovely Everlasting Cat!

3. Yes I am!

4. But I can pretend I am, Mr. Scary-cat!

5. May you burn in the deepest pits of hell!

Oh, and the aflafla thing is an inside joke. Don't ask.


	11. There's a hole in the world

_Okay, since Masque is so kindly advertising for me, I am advertising for her. Go read _A Phangirl's Guide to Pestering an Erik_. Now._

_Wow, this is gonna be a doozy. This chapter has Sweeney Todd, A Chorus Line, Grease, On A Clear Day, RENT, and, of course, CATS and Phantom reference. Lots of reference for a single chapter._

_This one has another twist...An...interesting twist, to state it kindly..._

* * *

"Oh my dear Lord," The white cat screamed happily. A girlish scream.

"I'm a girl cat." Raoul mumbled. "A girl _kitten_." Happy tears ran down her fuzzy face, dripping off her pink nose.

"_I'm alive at last! And I'm full of joy!"_ She sang happily.

* * *

"Okay, I was wrong. _You_ have the sexiest feet ever."

"Mon dieu, monsieur chat!"

"I do not lie."

Plato sat staring at the old black cat's paws. The cat _was_ once black, of course, but had turned grey with age. Mame Giry's fur stuck out in all directions, like a walking carrot patch. It was impossible to declare her either long-haired or short-haired overall; she most certainly had bits of both in various places.

* * *

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and it's filled with people who are filled with—"

Erik's—ahem—_cheerful_ singing was interrupted by Jellylorum's paw, which had been placed rather hurriedly over his deformed little mouth.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Mustn't curse in front of the kittens, dear!"

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were singing "We Go Together". Electra, Victoria, and Etcetera sang "Come Back to Me" as they searched for Tugger. Coricopat and Tantomile sang "I Can Do That", and Erik sang "My Friends" while studying his claws. All was right—as well as loud and in the improper key—with the world.

Then all the cats went silent; except for Erik, who was quickly shushed. Everyone rushed into an area that the new-comers had never seen before as music began to play.

Music from CATS.

The Overture from CATS.

* * *

"What's going on? Can I kill Misto yet?"

"Performance again. Remember your lines?"

"No."

"Sure you do," Munkustrap said with a chuckle. Misto hurriedly rushed up to him.

"See, 'Strap, as it turns out, my magic screwed up everyone's memory, so—"

"AHA! I remember! _Daylight! See the dew on a sunflower! And a rose that is fading! Roses wither away! Like the sunflower, I yearn to turn my face to the dawn! I am waiting for the day!_"

"—That's nice, Jemima. You can shut up now. ANYWAYS, as I was saying, my magic made nearly everyone forget their lines. Presto."

"Lovely."

* * *

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

_"Are you blind when you're born?"_

_"Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street."_

_"How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, your own blood cells betray?"_

_"Think of me! Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye!"_

"_Were you there when the pharaohs commissioned the sphinx?"_

_"Sweeney heard music that nobody heard."_

_"And now this deadline—eviction or pay!"_

_"Angel of music, hide no longer—enter in your glory!"_

"Hey guys, shut up, _there's a man over there with a look of surprise!_"

"Is it my angel?"

"Send him to his maker cleanly shaven!"

"WE'RE NOT GONNA PAY RENT!"

* * *

_You like? I wrote this after completing a language arts test, while on a minor sugar high. That explains most of it._


	12. OH MY GOD! IT SINGS!

Sweet little Jordie walked out of the theater, holding on to her parents' hands and staring ahead with big, blank eyes. Her feet made quiet little thudding noises and her little shows lit up with each step. Most things were little about the six year old.

"Mommy, why did Sweeney want to kill Macavity?"

"Because he was making them pay rent when they didn't want to."

"You have to pay rent when you're older," Jordie's father quickly reminded her.

"Why did Mr. Mistoffelees let Victoria go with Plato? He spent all that time organizing his plan to kidnap her just to let her go?"

"Yes, because she lied to him about his wife being dead."

"You'd better not lie to anyone when you're older," Jordie's father quickly reminded her.

"But I thought his wife _was _dead."

"Yes, but only after The Rum Tum Tugger killed her."

"You'd better not kill anyone when you're older," Jordie's father quickly reminded her. He does that a lot.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"I don't think that was a very happy play."

From that day on, little Jordie would never be the same.

* * *

"That went pretty well."

"Are you kidding me!" Munkustrap screamed so loud Erik's cute little ears flew back. "We turned CATS into…into…"

"CATS Todd of the Rented Opera of Fleet Street?"

"You know, that's pretty creative…I could sing a song about it."

"Please don't, Raoul," Christine begged.

"I have a better idea! We could sell little Mistomarkchristine Toddgirydeuteronomy dolls!"

"And if we make enough money, we could find a way back to Paris!" Erik squealed, then realized that squealing is NOT something the dreaded Phantom of the Opera would do and instantly cast a magic spell to erase his last sentence and the tone it was spoken in from everybody's minds.

Hey, it could happen.

* * *

Raoul danced around, waving the doll he'd made in the air.

"Look how good it turned out! And I had to sew it with paws!"

"How many did you make?" Victoria squeezed the little doll.

"And we all say, "We're not gonna pay attend the tale nighttime heightens sharpens each as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!"

"OH MY GOD! IT SINGS!" Victoria dropped the doll in terror.

"Yup. Pretty spiffy, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess—did you just say 'eh'?"

"…Yeah…"

"Cats don't say 'eh'. Okay?"

"…Okay…"

* * *

Raoul grunted as he pushed another box out.

"Think 4,297 dolls is enough?"

"Should be."

"My paws are so sore…" Raoul began to cry. "There should be kitten labor laws."

"Why is that?" Erik looked up from the doll he was studying.

"I'm too pretty to die!"

"Speaking of pretty things, have you seen Tugger lately?"

"Oh my God!" Victoria swooned. "He was _so_ hot singing 'Green Finch and Linnet Bird' yesterday!"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Erik moaned, dropping the doll. "He was wearing a skirt! And his fur was curled! And the necklace—"

"—Was so dreamy!" Victoria squealed. "Isn't it sexy how he isn't afraid to wear girly things for the sake of a play?"

"Ooooh! Ooooooh!" Raoul bounced up and down, her white fur flying everywhere. "I gave him a makeover back in Paris!"

"Can you do me too?" Victoria begged. Raoul squeed and nodded.

Right as Mistoffelees walked by.

"How's it coming?"

Victoria looked at Raoul.

Raoul looked at Victoria.

The pair squealed and immediately began to chase Mistoffelees, who was running for his life.

* * *

Whee! I finally updated. It's Masque's fault.


	13. Lovable sadists and singing dollies

Erik sighed as he stacked the boxes inside the theater door. He began to remove dolls from one of the 4,297 boxes.

"And we all say—"

"SHUT UP!"

"We're not gonna pay—"

"God in heaven, die!"

"—attend the tale—"

"How all the demons in hell come to torment me!"

"—nighttime heightens sharpens each—"

"I sing prettier than that!"

"—As magical Mr. Mistoffelees!"

When he placed it on the shelf, it began to sing again, resulting in numerous dents along the wall the _exact_ size of Erik's forehead. Spiffy, isn't it?

"I'm not unloading the other 4,296 boxes."

As Erik opened the door, Mistoffelees flew by, shrieking, with Raoul and Victoria at his tail. He changed his mind pretty quickly.

"And we all say—"

"SHUT UP!"

"SAVE ME SAVE ME SAVE ME SAVE ME!"

"You too, Misto!"

"We're not gonna pay—"

"God in heaven, die!"

"Oh my God! Not the mascara! AAAAAAH!"

"—attend the tale—"

Erik began to chuckle like the loveable sadist he is.

* * *

Raoul looked at the shelves and shelves of dolls lining the lobby happily. He melodramatically pretended to wipe away a tear.

Erik sat beneath a shelf and sobbed, his tail wrapped tightly around himself and his ears still ringing with the toys' song.

Mr. Mistoffelees hurriedly wiped off the remaining lipstick that had been forced upon his nonexistent lips before dashing backstage. All the cats followed, and within moments, the theater door was opened.

"And we all say, 'We're not gonna pay attend the tale nighttime heightens sharpens each as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!'"

Fangirlish squees filled the air.

* * *

"Let's see…so far we've made...3.2 billion dollars."

"Just enough for a time machine!" Erik was happy, for once. No one else was in pain, he hadn't just noticed a lovely BLOND prima donna, and he wasn't eating an éclair. Yet he was happy.

"So I can dance beautifully again!" Little Cecile Jammes was ecstatic.

"You kind of have to learn to dance beautifully first." (A/N: Whereas this would normally cue Cecile slapping Erik across the face, the cat's anatomy does not allow this. Even though it is possible for the author to come up with some ingenious way for this to occur, she feels it would be far too painful for both author and reader to witness, even with their mind's eye.

Yes, you have an _eye_ in your _mind_. Kind of gross, isn't it?)

"Wait…Why do you need a time machine when you have me?" Misto struck a cute little pose.

"You're not a very good magician, Misto," Erik reminded him. "If you were, we wouldn't even be here!"

"Oh. Right."


	14. Inside the time machine

"That's a time machine?" Etcetera muttered.

"It's ugly!"

"Can we paint it a pretty color?"

"How does it work?"

"Meep! It just sent my catnip mousey to the 37th century!"

"That was my catnip mouse, 'Teazer! Why do you have to lose _all_ of my stuff?"

"It's not my fault! The time machine ate it!"

"What date are we going back to?"

"Whenever this whole thing started."

"Think 11 B.C.'s a good guess?"

"NO!"

"12 B.C.?"

"February 16th, 2006, please,"

Beep.

"Presto!"

"The time machine stole my word!"

"Word thief! Word thief! AAAA!"

"Fashoowheemeepfweetpshaaaaa."

"The time machine—uh…DIDN'T steal my word!"

"I should certainly hope not."

Beep.

"Are we there yet?"

"We really aren't going anywhere."

"Are we then yet?"

"We'll stop when we get then, okay?"

"You're brutally murdering so many grammatical laws."

"I need a litterbox."

"Blorp."

"Eeeeew."

"Misto got timesick!"

"I knew I should've brought some Dramamine."

"Don't say that! It's copyrighted!"

"What, Dramamine?"

"Shush!"

Beep.

"Will you stop that infernal beeping?"

BEEP.

"FASHOOWHEEMEEPFWEETPSHAAAAA!"

* * *

"Hey, look, it's the flying Mistoffelees!" 

"It's not funny, Tugger," Mr. Mistoffelees muttered with a sigh. "Why must Coricopat and Tantomile make everything so difficult?"

The Rum Tum Tugger gave a short laugh before stretching out in the sun. "It's only because you have no twin to perform it with,"

Mistoffelees gave one more unsuccessful attempt before joining his friend in the sun. If this little magic trick was anything like the others, he'd have it down in under a day. He absolutely had to have learned it by then, for Bustopher Jones would be visiting soon and the large cat required entertainment.

"Mistoffelees? …Mistoffelees! Mistoffelees!" Munkustrap's voice brought Mr. Mistoffelees from his troubled thoughts. The silver tabby smiled and sat down in front of him. "Tell me," he said, his tail flicking back and forth. "Have you mastered your latest trick yet, or is the kitten having a bit of trouble?

With an angry grunt that went "harumphumherumph", Mistoffelees turned away, closing his eyes. "Well then, magical Mr. Mistoffelees, why don't you show me all you can do, and I'll speak to Coricopat and Tantomile about the rest?"

Mumbling a very unhappy mumble, Mistoffelees raised himself to his adorable little paws and leapt into the air. A victorious smile crept across his face.

"Presto!"

And a shiny little rainbow sparkled around his paws.

"See? It's not that hard." Coricopat said with a smile as he walked past. "By the way, what's with the mascara, Tugger?"

"Uhm…Can't say I know."

THE END

* * *

I'll miss you, Presto!...But I had a good time. -hugs- 

Hope you all enjoyed the run...

Love,

WastedxOpportunity

P.S.: FASHOOWHEEMEEPFWEETPSHAAAAA!


End file.
